


Confessio Fidei (Confession of Faith)

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Happy, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, POV Stiles, Pack in College, Romance, Stiles-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 06:31:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12205761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: A hand caught his shoulder and Stiles bolted, throwing a hand wildly at the person’s face, hoping that he could hit something even if it wasn’t all that helpful. His breathing calmed down as Derek caught his forearm, little strokes of his thumb grazing his arm.“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles groaned and Derek smiled in his goofy way he did when he thought no one could see him. Stiles loved that smile and he melted as he moved, allowing Derek to slide on the couch behind him.OR...Derek comes to an anxious Stiles rescue with cuddles and advice





	Confessio Fidei (Confession of Faith)

Stiles watched the rain leak down the window, racing lines streaking through the coat of condensed fog. He tugged on his hoodie, burying his nose deeper into the collar and stiffing, inhaling the last few remnants of Derek’s scent. His own smell, a coalition of his soap and cologne was slowly bleeding over where Derek’s was, marking Derek’s hoodie as his own and Stiles as Derek’s. 

In the background Stiles could hear the light beats of music playing from outside,  _ party _ music, and he shut his eyes, swaying to the beat of it. He was curled up on the couch, a blanket overtop of him and the TV muted. His fingers twitched anxiously, fumbling to curl in and out of the threads fraying from his cover. It was late, long past the pastel pink hues of dusk, long past the warmth that faded into fall nights, the last hold summer had on the changing season, long past the flashing of fireflies and long past the end of his father’s shift. 

He had school in the morning, a test too, but Stiles’ mind was racing far too quick for him to grasp some sleep. His gaze flitted to the thick stack of completed homework on the table, then back to the fluorescent screen of his laptop where he was still trying to configure words into some semblance of meaning. It was his college essay and he didn’t know how to finish it… or start it… or middle it? Or whatever. He was stuck. They said to write from the heart, to show your personality and what you’re worth but Stiles didn’t know how he could write about anything. All his friends were werewolves, all his troubles supernatural, all his non-freaky friendships bleeding into the sucking void of the bewitched. He’d started it over and over from his friendship to scott to his near death experiences to… baking? Studying? Chemistry?

He knew what he wanted to write about but it was… too personal and too lost in grief, shrouded by anxiety attacks and gnarled edges. It wasn’t pretty or perfect, it was impactful but more in the way of a hurricane or a punch than an epiphany. His mother’s death was too hard for him to remember, too much to relieve. But at the same time it made him who he was today. It forged him. 

He groaned and chucked his laptop on the table in front of him harshly, closing his eyes, feeling the sting of sticky eyelids on dry eyes. He breathed out through his teeth and tried to bury himself in the blanket. A hand caught his shoulder and Stiles bolted, throwing a hand wildly at the person’s face, hoping that he could hit  _ something _ even if it wasn’t all that helpful. His breathing calmed down as Derek caught his forearm, little strokes of his thumb grazing his arm. 

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles groaned and Derek smiled in his goofy way he did when he thought no one could see him. Stiles loved that smile and he melted as he moved, allowing Derek to slide on the couch behind him. 

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked once they were situated and Stiles ducked his head, of course Derek had to see his frustration. 

“It’s nothing,” Stiles muttered but stopped when Derek’s growl vibrated against his back. “It’s my college essay.”

“That’s not nothing.”

“Well it is right now,” Stiles quipped and jerked a hand in the direction of the blank document. The cursor was still blinking at him like a mocking flag signalling the start of a race. Derek leaned over to pick up the laptop and entered into the edits portion, reading all the words Stiles had written and deleted. There were dozens of beginnings in there, millions of tangents and points and quirks but none of them had worked out. 

He scrolled through them, grunting at some and smiling at others until he slowed at the one Stiles really wanted to write. It was about growing up with his mom and what he remembered about her. It was about her illness and how growing up watching someone so strong grow so weak gave Stiles a reason to live his life to the fullest and to chase his dreams. 

It was cheesy and cliche and heart-breaking but it was the closest thing Stiles could send to being truly him other than his beating heart torn from his chest. 

“I like this one,” Derek mentioned casually, turning to Stiles. He could see the carefulness in his green gaze, pinning Stiles to the couch. It was a fragile topic and it wasn’t something Derek was unaware of. 

“I do too but it feels wrong,” his voice cracked. “Putting it in writing…”

“Feels like a Eulogy?” Derek offered, Stiles perked up. Derek was looking at him softly, his hair tousled from sleep or wind, his eyes shadowed under plush brows, a slight smile on his face and a little roundness to his cheeks. Stiles nodded and Derek sucked in a breath, shutting his eyes against his own memories. “Acknowledging her death is not the same thing as glorifying it, Stiles. This was important to you, it still is. People should know about it.”

Stiles wrapped a hand around Derek’s arm, tugging the laptop back and shutting it. Tonight was not the night for him to finish it. He was too tired to slot the words to encapsulate his mom and too anxious to brave that lane without fear for panic attacks. 

“Tomorrow,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s chest, “Tonight I just want to stay with you.” He could feel Derek nod against the crown of his head and he shifted to slide the blanket over the both of them. 

“Sleep, you need it.”

Stiles shut his eyes and the marathon of thoughts stopped. “Thank you,” he whispered, feeling Derek’s reply in the kiss on his forehead and the soothing circles rubbed into his back as he fell asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I know it has been a while since I've updated. I've been having a lot of personal drama lately and it has been impeding my ability to write. I hope you liked this Sterek ficlet. Please leave a comment or kudos if you did and if you have any suggestions for new fics I'd love to hear them. :) 
> 
> -C


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